


Aftermath

by golden_redhead



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Gryffindor Kaito Momota, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kaito as the Chosen One, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts is over he finds Momota in the Astronomy Tower.He doesn’t comment on how predictable it is to see him there, even if the words are right there, curling at the very tip of his tongue. He slips into the tower quietly, noting how many steps of the steep spiral staircase that leads to the top are missing with a grim sense of detachment.The stars twinkling high above look the same as ever, unaware of the tragedy that took place below, the meadows of Hogwarts still scattered with bodies. For a long moment Momota doesn’t acknowledge his presence, doesn’t even twitch, his eyes fixed on the stars spread on the dark sky above them and blind to anything else.If Ouma closes his eyes for a second too long he can still hear the echo of screams and cries, curses flying left and right and hitting blindly, not caring whether it’s a human or House-elf, centaur or poltergeist.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> All my love for @asteroidtaker (Tumblr) who helped with beta reading!
> 
> Content Warning: nothing really major but there are mentions of blood and death (including the death of specific characters, though without any details) and fighting because the story takes place right after the end of the Battle of Hogwarts.

After the battle of Hogwarts is over he finds Momota in the Astronomy Tower. 

 

He doesn’t comment on how predictable it is to see him there, even if the words are right there, curling at the very tip of his tongue. He slips into the tower quietly, noting how many steps of the steep spiral staircase that leads to the top are missing with a grim sense of detachment. 

 

The stars twinkling high above look the same as ever, unaware of the tragedy that took place below, the meadows of Hogwarts still scattered with bodies. For a long moment Momota doesn’t acknowledge his presence, doesn’t even twitch, his eyes fixed on the stars spread on the dark sky above them and blind to anything else. Briefly, Ouma wonders if he even sees anything. Maybe he’s just staring at nothing, trying to reach some memories that he has no access to. 

 

If he closes his eyes for a second too long he can still hear the echo of screams and cries, curses flying left and right and hitting blindly, not caring whether it’s a human or House-elf, centaur or poltergeist. He can hear Bellatrix’s roar of laughter and the bolt of piercing green spell as the Killing Curse misses him just barely, almost brushing against his shoulder, only to hit its target. He turns back just in time to watch as a small Hufflepuff girl lets out her final gasp, life leaving her body like in slow motion, a black and white checkered scarf slipping down her neck and onto the slick-with-blood floor. He remembers the feeling of blood draining from his face and the clutches of fear holding his heart as he wants to catch her as she falls, wants to scream until his throat feels sore. He does none of these things, frozen in place for the longest while. What happens next is a blur, a cascade of more screams and someone’s warm and sticky from blood hand wrapping around his arm and pulling him out of the danger’s way just as a burst of fire - where is it coming from? - fills out the room and consumes the body in flames. He knows that he did his fair share of screaming and begging and crying but he barely remembers a thing. He knows, however, that it was Momota’s arms that wrapped around him and held him tightly, the quiet rustle of his voice strangely comforting while his whole world was falling apart. 

 

“Have you seen Maki and Shuichi?” Momota asks tiredly and Ouma swears that he’s never heard him sound so beaten, so detached and tired and vulnerable. 

 

With all his heroic masks gone he sounds just like a lost kid, disoriented and helpless. It’s hard to believe that he was the Chosen One, the same person who just defeated the greatest threat the wizarding world has ever faced. 

 

“Nope~! They’re not my sidekicks to look after, that’s more of Momota-chan’s shtick,” he says, forcing a cheerful note into his voice even as Momota is seemingly too tired to send him as much as a disapproving glare. He simply scoffs and looks away, back to his own thoughts. 

 

It’s almost surreal, him being so quiet. 

 

Ouma’s lips curl in a grimace, the scene still burning in his memory. It feels like it happened so long ago, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.  

 

He told him the truth shortly before the battle started, tears and snot rolling down his face as he finally broke down and confessed, words slipping out of his mouth at an overwhelming speed, as if afraid that he’ll never get another chance to say them.

 

Back then he thought that he would be dead by now, one of many casualties of the inevitable battle. Otherwise he never would have let himself fall so low, least of all in Momota’s presence. But apparently fate had different plans. 

 

And Momota - being the fool that he is - forgave him without a second thought, spilling out some nonsense about always believing in him, his face bright and the hard way he pat Ouma on the back almost knocking the breath out of the smaller boy made it obvious. The sentiment made Ouma snort in grim amusement despite his miserable state. He knows a liar when he sees one.

 

It doesn’t erase the years of antagonism between them, even if a good portion of it were just harmless pranks and petty House rivalry. 

 

When did it all go so wrong, thinks Ouma bitterly. All he did was try to protect DICE, the little group of misfits just like him, Muggle-born children abandoned and left to fend for themselves or die trying. 

 

It’s quiet up here, the world below them solemn and grieving. If he looks down and squints his eyes he can see the faint light of the wands as wizards look for what’s left of those who were brave enough to defend Hogwarts with their own lives. Some part of him wants to be cynical about it, brush it off as the price they had to pay for being reckless. But those were real people, many of whom he has seen everyday in his classes, students and teachers alike, now cold and lifeless and lying in the grass like forgotten dolls. 

 

Maybe he’s an even bigger fool than Momota could ever dream of being. After all, Momota succeeded where Ouma failed. He’s been trying to defeat the enemy on his own but now he realizes that it was foolish of him. He joined Voldemort’s side hoping to learn more, tossing aside his own morality in hopes of getting close enough to be able to deal the final blow. In reality, all he did was make things worse. 

 

The tattoo on his arm burns and so do his eyes, angry tears gathering in the corners as he looks to the side to no longer stare at the bodies scattered at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. From up here he can’t tell which belong to the Death Eaters. He supposes that it doesn’t matter. 

 

He can feel Momota’s curious eyes burning into his skin. 

 

“It… It’s gonna be okay,” murmurs Momota and then quickly averts his gaze when Ouma’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously.

 

Ouma laughs, a single bark that sounds too loud in the quiet of the slowly fading night. 

 

“Whatever you say, Momota-chan,” he comments, amused.

 

He wonders which one of them Momota is trying to reassure more. 

 

Momota glances at him, mauvish-colored eyes bloodshot and brimming with worry. He looks like he wants to say something but his teeth dig into his lips, keeping his mouth shut. It’s almost amusing, Ouma doesn’t think that he’s ever had a chance to see Momota actively trying to keep quiet. 

 

Momota’s concern is a weird mix of infuriating and comforting, even if it’s the kind of comfort that he doesn’t deserve. Ouma will be lucky if the only punishment he will have to face is rotting in one of the freezing cold cells of Azkaban. The brand adorning his left forearm is a pretty damning evidence and the only one the wizarding world will ever care about. 

 

He wonders if Momota is aware of any of that or if his usual naive positivity made him blind to the reality of Ouma’s situation. 

 

Ouma wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like this new Momota, so quiet and reserved, still like a statue as he stares at the stars spread over the sky with unseeing eyes. He’s used to reading him with ease but he can’t figure him out in this weird new state and it sends a spark of irritation through his veins. 

 

It’s not that he’s worried about Momota, he decides. Of course he’s not. Okay, so maybe the fact that he’s here, with Ouma and at the top of the Astronomy Tower, rather than with his loyal sidekicks and seeking comfort in their presence after such a traumatic event is a little bit worrying but Ouma’s willing to cut him some slack. Momota’s always been a pathetic masochist. This whole Chosen One business is the best proof of that. 

 

“Momota-chan better not do anything stupid,” drawls Ouma. He lifts his arms to fold his hands behind his neck.

 

To his surprise Momota lets out a quiet chuckle and scratches the back of his head, the look on his face almost sheepish. 

 

“No worries,” he says, “I’ve done more than my fair share of stupid today.” 

 

Ouma tilts his head to the side, keeping his expression neutral. 

 

“How so?”

 

“Isn’t that obvious?” asks Momota dejectedly, a bitter note seeping into his voice. He gestures vaguely in the direction of the ground below. 

 

Ouma’s brows furrow in a frown. Momota-chan isn’t blaming himself for what happened… is he? 

 

Then again, this is exactly the kind of stupidity he grew to expect from Momota throughout the years. He fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

 

“Momota-chan is so dumb,” he announces with a firm nod, as if he has just realized that and knows for a fact that it’s true. 

 

“W-what?!” sputters Momota. “I haven’t even done anything.”

 

Ouma snorts. “Being dumb is your state of being, my beloved Momota-chan. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. You’re a natural!”

 

A grimace crosses Momota’s face but, surprisingly, he doesn’t rise to the bait. Ouma clicks his tongue in disapproval. 

 

“If Momota thinks that the battle was his fault then he’s even dumber than usual,” he informs him. He doesn’t even look in Momota’s direction, inspecting his nails instead. He doesn’t have to look to know what kind of face Momota is making. He spent years practicing the skill of provoking Momota and he knew that the Gryffindor would never fail to deliver when it came to offended expressions. He liked to think that he was an expert. 

 

“I’m not dumb,” grumbles Momota and Ouma’s lips twitch slightly in a faint smile. Ah, that sounds more like the Momota he knows. 

 

“It’s just… If it wasn’t for me… They would still be alive… Gonta and Angie… And Shuichi’s uncle and y-your friends, too. DICE, right?”

 

Ouma can feel his heart sink. Leave it to Momota to bring up the one thing he couldn’t bear to think about right now. He can feel the anxiety attack creeping up his throat, the suffocating feeling spreading over his body and the stinging prickle of tears. He blinks furiously to chase them away. 

 

Not here. Not with Momota. 

 

He’s cried around him enough for one day. 

 

It takes him a moment to respond. For the longest moment he simply doesn’t trust his voice not to break. 

 

“Momota-chan, they knew what they’re doing. They knew the consequences.”

 

Momota’s hands curl into fists. 

 

“No. No, they didn’t,” he protests fervently, his voice reaching hysterical tones. Ouma almost flinches away at how desperately it sounds. “They believed that I would save them, that I would defeat Voldemort and I… I...”

 

“And you did,” interrupts him Ouma.

 

Momota doesn’t look convinced, the look on his face pained. Ouma almost feels bad for him. 

 

“Listen, Momota-chan. You defeated the guy who terrorized the entire wizarding world for decades. Twice!” Ouma reached out his hand to flick the Chosen One on the forehead where the lightning bolt-shaped scar rested. “No one came even close to doing what you did in over thirty years.”

 

“I didn’t do it alone.” 

 

“Nope! You didn’t,” agrees Ouma. “And you shouldn’t have done that at all. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility.” 

 

“But-”

 

“Momota-chaaaan,” whines Ouma, exasperated, “no buuuuts. You are a kid. And you were a baby, slightly more dumb than you are now, when you defeated him for the first time. You did more than the Ministry of Magic or any adult did in years.”

 

Momota doesn’t say anything and Ouma decides to take it as a success.

 

“You saved more lives than you think.” 

 

His voice leaves no room for further discussion. 

 

Silence spreads between them after that. It’s not a heavy with tension one, however, like the ones they used to share so often. It’s quiet and calm in a way that none of the previous ones ever was. Ouma would say that it feels almost comforting if he didn’t know better. 

 

Apparently near death experiences really bring people closer. Who knew!

 

It’s Momota who breaks the silence just as the sun starts to paint the sky with the rosy shades of the dawn, spilling warmth all over the horizon. 

 

“Y’know,” starts Momota, sending him an uncertain glance and swallowing hard before continuing. “If you… if you want to disappear I could… um, I mean… I could pretend that I didn’t see anything.”

 

Ouma’s lips stretch in a wide grin. “Aww, Momota-chan. You _ do _ care!”

 

Momota huffs irritatedly. 

 

“Of course I care,” he says grumpily and Ouma almost giggles at how offended he sounds. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” well, this is an understatement, thinks Ouma, but he doesn’t interrupt Momota’s heartfelt confession, “but I don’t want you to end up in Azkaban. You don’t deserve it.”

 

Ouma opens his mouth to cut in with some ridiculous remark but Momota is faster, as if sensing that he’s not about to take it seriously. 

 

“Ouma.” 

 

The Slytherin closes his mouth and stares, his face carefully blank.

 

“I mean it,” Momota says with emphasis, his gaze serious and firm as he searches the smaller boy’s eyes. Ouma has no doubt that he’s telling the truth. 

 

Ouma takes a deep breath and throws his hands into the pockets of his robes, his fingers clasping tightly around his wand, and shakes his head decidedly, long strands of plum hair bouncing with the movement. 

 

“No,” he says, but his voice comes out all weak and choked up. 

 

He clears his throat, swallowing the sob building up inside and threatening to escape. He tries again. 

 

“No.” He repeats and this time it sounds stronger. More sure. 

 

Momota’s surprised stare weighs on his shoulders. He can’t blame him for that. 

 

When Ouma speaks again he stares straight into Momota’s eyes and forces any traces of insincerity and childishness out of his voice. “I’m not going to run, Momota-chan.” 

 

It sounds like a promise. (He doesn’t mention that he has nowhere to run anyway.)

 

Momota lets out a shaky laugh and if Ouma tries hard enough he can almost pretend that he sounds relieved. 

 

“Okay,” breathes out Momota. “Okay.”

 

Ouma almost jumps when he feels the calloused fingers brushing against his. His first instinct is to swat Momota’s hand away but he changes his mind when he catches a glimpse of his face. 

 

Reluctantly, he decides to allow it, at least for now. Saihara and Harukawa better get there soon, though. Ouma hardly qualifies as a recommended source of comfort. Besides, hasn’t he done enough today? He’ll have to start to charge them for an hour. 

 

When the first rays of sunshine peek over the horizon and the warm shades of gold and red frame Momota’s face like a halo, Ouma thinks that maybe there are heroes in this story after all. 

 

Momota’s hand feels warm in his.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't think that I'd post another Hogwarts AU right after the previous one. I originally started to write it for Oumota Weekend but then [The Prefect Badge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675609) happened and I completely forgot about this project. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed it!


End file.
